


Sometimes

by bewareofitalics



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareofitalics/pseuds/bewareofitalics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his wedding, Sebastian can't help but remember Antonio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005.

Once the first thrill of married life had worn off, Olivia and Sebastian realized that they had nothing to say to each other. They shared a bed, but when they met in the daylight they smiled and nodded and blushed and looked away. Sometimes Sebastian would leave the house and take long walks. Sometimes Olivia would call in Feste to amuse her. Sometimes they would attempt conversation – about the weather, about if Malvolio truly would come back for revenge, about “we really must have a dinner party someday.” They avoided the subject of Viola and Orsino’s delirious happiness. They cringed upon hearing the muffled, conspiratorial squeals and guffaws of Maria and Sir Toby. 

Sometimes Sebastian would touch Olivia’s satin-smooth cheek and tell her she was beautiful. Olivia would smile and thank him, but she would not tell him he was handsome. He looked too much like Cesario who was really Viola and it was wrong to think a woman was handsome, was it not?

Sometimes Sebastian would visit his sister, and though he invited Olivia to come with him, she never did. Sebastian never invited Viola to his house, feeling that she would somehow not be welcome. Besides, the house was not really his, it was that of his Lady. His mad, wild, beautiful Lady who was now sane and serene and really rather dull. But she was still beautiful, he reminded himself, for that was all he had left.

Sometimes Sebastian would remember the man who saved his life, the gruff, strong, salty Antonio. He remembered talking late into the night – listening raptly to dramatic stories of life at sea, chiming in with his childhood dreams of sailing. He remembered suddenly falling silent and weeping for his lost sister – Antonio never asked any questions, but would put a comforting hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. 

He remembered the difference that had subtly crept over their relationship. He remembered pretending exhaustion and going to sleep without talking, inching his bedroll away from Antonio’s. It was wrong to want to run his fingers through that beard, was it not? 

Antonio had left for the sea when he saw Sebastian happily married. And so Sebastian and Olivia glided through life, presiding over the dinner table and amusedly tolerating the other members of their household and trying to forget.

^^^^^^

“My lord?” said Balthazar timidly. The new steward was not nearly as efficient as Malvolio, according to Olivia, but then he was not nearly as irritating.

“Yes?” Sebastian replied without looking away from his imaginary fencing partner. 

“There is someone in the garden to see you, my lord.”

“Who is it?” Sebastian expertly parried an invisible blade.

“He gave the name ‘Antonio,’ my lord.”

Sebastian’s sword dropped through his opponent’s head. “Tell him I will be there anon,” he said. 

“Yes, my lord,” said Balthazar. “Shall I call your lady, my lord?”

“Nay, she will be reading. Interrupt her not,” said Sebastian. “To the gentleman, tell him I will be there.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Balthazar, and left Sebastian to his accustomed silence.

Sebastian carefully replaced his sword in its sheath, then mopped his dripping face with a nearby cloth. He wondered if he should not change into fresher clothes, but decided against it – that would mean going upstairs, that would mean passing his wife. No matter, Antonio would not care about the state of his clothes. Sebastian dropped the cloth and nearly ran out to the garden.

There stood Antonio, unkempt as ever and looking rather out of place among the orderly flowers. Sebastian hardly even paused before hurling himself into his arms. “Antonio, my friend,” he laughed into the untouchable beard, “how I have missed thee!”

“And I thee,” said Antonio, his hands warm and comforting on Sebastian’s back.


End file.
